China's Ministry of State Security triggered widespread public anger after publishing an article attacking the "lying flat" phenomenon, claiming the social trend resulted from "internet influencers funded by overseas organizations" who were "brainwashing Chinese youth." The warning not only failed to achieve its intended effect—it exposed deepening fractures in the social contract between the Chinese Communist Party and ordinary citizens.
The ministry's article, reposted by state media outlets, characterized "lying flat" (tangping, 躺平)—the popular trend of young people refusing intense work pressure and lowering life ambitions—as a national security threat orchestrated by "anti-China hostile foreign forces abroad." The response from Chinese netizens was immediate and overwhelmingly negative, with even normally pro-government "Big V" influencers and nationalist "Little Pink" commentators voicing objections.
The backlash reveals not youth rebellion but rational response to systemic breakdown. "Lying flat" emerged as Chinese citizens, especially the young, faced institutional rigidity, class solidification, and a reality where hard work no longer guarantees proportional rewards. From Reform and Opening Up through the mid-2010s, personal effort could indeed lead to prosperity and class mobility. That era has ended.
"A university graduate earning 3,000 yuan per month" has become a common phenomenon, according to analysis by Wang Qingmin, a Chinese writer and researcher based in Europe who authored a detailed examination of the trend. Income growth among China's middle and lower classes has stagnated. Meanwhile, class barriers have solidified. "Some people are born in Rome; some people are born as beasts of burden," a popular saying captures the frustration. The gulf between newly rich and ordinary people widens across generations, making upward mobility nearly impossible regardless of individual effort.
The phenomenon also represents backlash against excessive involution (内卷)—the intensifying competitive pressure that characterizes Chinese society. Foxconn "sweatshops" and white-collar "996" schedules (9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days per week), the hellish Hengshui educational model with enormous academic burdens, and corporate "wolf culture" with ruthless elimination mechanisms all reflect severe involution. Social Darwinist ideology—"only those who endure the bitterest hardship can become superior people"—became widespread during economic growth periods but left people physically and mentally exhausted.
When China's development entered a bottleneck period, compounded by COVID-19 pandemic blows and the Zero-COVID policy's economic damage, many Chinese who had pushed themselves to the limit "became like burst balloons losing air or over-compressed springs losing stored energy," Wang observed. They shifted from admiring social Darwinism toward depression and numbness.
Systemic injustice compounds the problem. Unbalanced development, incomplete democracy and rule of law, and restricted press and speech freedoms create an environment where those who labor hard often suffer losses while opportunists profit. Companies withhold wages with little recourse. Workers receive insufficient protection. Soaring housing prices, constantly changing government policies, and rampant fraud undermine confidence in pursuing a better life.
Many hard-working people have become "leeks" (韭菜) to be harvested and "consumables" (耗材) exploited by the powerful, with meager personal gains while suffering physical and mental illness. Some die suddenly from overwork. When effort doesn't bring rewards, when hard work comes to nothing, people naturally lose drive and ambition. Since systemic problems prevent pushing for change, "lying flat" becomes passive resistance to unfairness.
People are also unwilling to marry and have children—sharp declines in marriage and birth rates manifest the same underlying crisis. Yet even those who have "lain flat" work harder than most foreigners, Wang notes. White-collar workers, blue-collar workers, and students still maintain working and study hours exceeding those in Europe, the United States, and many Asian, African, and Latin American countries.
China's low social welfare means people without savings cannot stop working even briefly. Many must rise early and work late merely to sustain living, wishing to lie flat but unable to do so. Meanwhile, a privileged elite—especially "Red Nth Generation" descendants, officials' children, and wealthy second generations—don't work at all or engage only in easy, comfortable jobs while possessing enormous wealth and enjoying luxury. "As farmers boil inside like soup, the sons of nobles wave their fans," a classical saying captures this stark unfairness.
The Ministry of State Security's intervention reveals genuine CCP anxiety. For the security apparatus to personally attack a social phenomenon elevates it to threats against state stability. Many ordinary people recognized this clearly, which only increased their disgust and anger. They saw through the attempt to portray their genuine suffering as foreign manipulation.
Some brought out Mao-era People's Daily articles criticizing the Soviet "revisionist clique" for repeatedly demanding people keep striving, using them to embarrass today's official media and ruling party. In recent years, Chinese people—especially the young—have shifted from respecting and loving the Party and government toward refusing to obey authority, responding with defiance, sarcasm, and coded mockery. Official calls for patriotism, responsibility, and self-sacrifice no longer receive broad support but attract increasing ridicule.
Moreover, when officials promote "do not lie flat," they hope people will continue creating wealth through blood and sweat so public finances receive more tax revenue and vested interests may live even more comfortably. Ordinary people are still treated as "leeks" to harvest and "consumables" to exploit. The authorities' active encouragement of childbirth in recent years serves the same purpose.
In China, as across Asia, long-term strategic thinking guides policy—what appears reactive is often planned. Yet the "lying flat" backlash suggests the CCP's social management strategy has encountered limits. If authorities truly wish to change the phenomenon, Wang argues, the prerequisite is political and economic reform: safeguarding democratic rights, promoting distributive fairness, opening channels for expression, and resolving people's legitimate demands. Above all, protecting workers' lawful rights and ensuring income matches labor contribution.
Without such reforms, people acting out of rational self-interest will continue choosing to "lie flat." Government authority will decline further through the Tacitus Trap (塔西佗陷阱)—when credibility collapses, even policies genuinely benefiting the country fail to gain trust. More Chinese will not only "lie flat" in labor but also in public responsibility and civic duty, becoming more calculatingly selfish and hypocritical as morality decays and rule of law fails to flourish.
The irony is sharp: the Ministry of State Security warned that "lying flat" would "hand over development dividends, strategic opportunities, and the nation's future" to countries competing with China. Yet such consequences would be created precisely by China's rulers themselves—a self-fulfilling prophecy of their own warning.
